


Down By the Bay

by SEABlRD



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Accidents, Ghosts, Hauntings, M/M, brief descriptions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 00:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/pseuds/SEABlRD
Summary: Where the watermelons grow,Back to my home I dare not go-This is a ghost story.





	Down By the Bay

**Author's Note:**

> its still halloween somewhere right???  
> \---  
>  _Cause if I do, my lover will say...._

“... Laurent?”

Damen looks up from where he’s crouched beside the old car. It belonged to his father, and it’s served him faithfully for many long years. The man is pale, guilt dancing in his eyes as he eyes the vehicle, while Laurent’s own eyes slide to the ruined front and he snorts.

“I see the old gas guzzler has finally been done in,” the blond remarks, ignoring Damen’s flinch. When no verbal defense for the car comes, he continues: “Come on, now, it’s been on its last legs for a while and we both know it. We can worry about a new car when our vacation is over.”

With that he extends a beckoning hand to Damen, who takes it hesitantly and follows Laurent into the cabin. 

It’s a seaside summer house, Damen had told him when they were planning this week months ago. Laurent had been skeptical at first, he’s always been more of a city-dweller, but when they’d arrived two days ago he’d fallen in love with it instantly.

He made Damen promise to take him here every summer.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” Laurent mentions offhandedly. “Did you bring back the groceries at all, or were you too distracted by the car?”

“Laurent, I’m so sorry,” Damen grabs his hand, and Laurent is surprised to feel that they’re cold. He meets Damen’s eyes, and the taller man can’t seem to formulate the rest of his apology. This close, Laurent can smell the car oil and burnt rubber from the tires on Damen’s clothes, and wrinkles his nose in disgust. He’ll have to clean that outfit very thoroughly, later.

“If you forgot the groceries, it’s fine. We still have some leftovers from yesterday, I’m sure we can figure it out.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon just walking by the shore. For once Damen doesn’t ramble on as he usually does, and Laurent is content with the silence. When it’s time to go back to the cabin for supper, they reheat the leftovers and have a quiet night in.

\-----

It’s only after a few days that Laurent notices something is off; he hasn’t seen Damen sleep once. It’s especially strange, because he knows how much Damen likes to sleep. At home, Laurent spends too many mornings rushing to get ready for work because of Damen trying to keep him in bed for ‘just five more minutes, please’. 

He really notices it one night as he gets up to go to the bathroom, almost startling himself out of his pyjama pants when he turns over and sees Damen sitting stiff and upright beside him. His eyes shine in the low light coming in from the window.

“Have you slept at all?” Laurent asks, groggy and annoyed. He rubs his face and swings his legs off the bed, hesitating on whether he should check if his boyfriend might be unwell before deciding it can wait for the morning. He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, going to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he comes back, Damen is still in the same position he’d left him in, wide eyes tracking his movements.

“This is ridiculous,” Laurent scolds him. “At least lie down. I can’t sleep if you keep staring at me like that.”

He falls back asleep slowly, hyper-aware of Damen’s eyes on him, and when he does slip away he dreams of the smell of burnt rubber. 

\-----

There’s something wrong with Damen. Of that, Laurent is now certain. 

It feels like they’ve been at the cabin for far longer than a week, Laurent wouldn’t know because there are no calendars in the cabin and no internet service, and Damen seems uninclined to leave. It’s worrying, Laurent thinks, especially paired with the sleepless nights. The man is growing gaunt, refusing to eat and drinking only the bare minimum of what his body should need.

He’s always been an imposing man, but never before would Laurent have said he was  _ scared _ of him. Damen is known for his gentleness despite his strength, after all, but fits of anger and irritation grow increasingly frequent over the course of the week. Laurent wonders if it’s only a matter of time before Damen lashes out physically as well as verbally, and tries to keep that thought to himself.

Laurent spends most of his time in the kitchen, now. It’s a battle of wills between whatever is going on with Damen, and Laurent’s insistence in trying to bring his boyfriend back. He starts with food.

He only feels slightly guilty locking Damen inside the cabin when he goes out for groceries. The door can be opened from the inside, of course, but for some reason Damen never opens it himself, anymore. 

Laurent walks down toward the town, the gravel road snaking left and right. He counts at least twelve curves in the road, before stopping at the last one in surprise.

There, at the other end, is a thirteenth curve. The guardrail is completely bent over, and the trees beyond the road are smashed in and splintered. As Laurent comes up to the site of the wreckage he spots a small, white wooden cross nailed to one of the trees.

Something very bad happened here, he thinks. He hurries into town and buys his groceries, and it’s as though the people in the store barely see him. He doesn’t blame them; the entire community must be shaken by whatever crash happened so close to the town. 

\-----

Damen flinches when Laurent puts a hand on his shoulder. The movement is so sudden and violent that Laurent leaps backward in fright, while Damen turns to him with shock in his eyes.

“S- orry,” Laurent stammers. “I didn’t… it’s suppertime, I just wanted to let you know.”

He heads back into the cabin without turning back to see if Damen follows him. The table is set, with two plates of sandwiches for both of them, and Laurent thinks he’s made a rather appetizing meal. Damen loves sandwiches, he reasons, and he’s been starving himself for the past week. He needs to eat.

Laurent takes his seat at the dinner table, just briefly looking up when Damen sits down as well. He picks up his sandwich and looks Damen right in the eye as he begins eating, motioning for his boyfriend to do the same. 

“Laurent…” Damen says, shaking his head slowly. His eyes never stray from Laurent. “I’m,  _ so _ sorry. You have to know that, okay? I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Laurent puts down his sandwich. “What are you sorry for, Damen?” he asks. Perhaps he feel guilty for startling Laurent so badly with his flinching, earlier. “It was an accident, I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Then  _ why- _ ” Damen’s fist comes down on the table harshly, and Laurent jumps out of his seat. Damen gets up as well, sweeping his arm over the table and sending his plate, the centerpiece, and a handful of utensils crashing to the floor.

“Damen, what’s going on?” Laurent’s voice raises. He moves around the table, keeping the piece of furniture between himself and Damen, who stomps toward the front door. “You’re scaring me! You need to eat something, this…  _ Starving _ yourself, it’s getting to your head! It’s affecting your behavior! I know you aren’t like this, just tell me what’s wrong!”

Damen throws the door open and stalks off into the gloom, hitting the destroyed hood of his car with his hand as he walks past it. Laurent hurries to the door, holding onto the frame as he leans out.

“Damen! Damen, come back! What’s  _ wrong _ with you?! Damen!” He shouts after him, his voice lost in the thickening woods. Even after his throat is raw and his voice is hoarse, Damen still doesn’t turn back.

\-----

Laurent doesn’t know how, or when it happened, but he wakes up in bed. Thunder strikes outside, and he knows he won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon. He turns around on the mattress, adjusting himself, and freezes when he sees a lurking form beside him. He throws the blankets off of himself and scrambles to his feet. 

Damen lies on the bed, on top of the comforter, completely unconscious for the first time in a while. At the sight of him sleeping Laurent relaxes, until he catches sight of the cuts and scrapes littering his arms and face. He spots what must be a deeper gash cuts across Damen’s left bicep, bleeding sluggishly into the bandage wrapped around it. Laurent moves closer apprehensively until he can lift the hem of Damen’s shirt, barely restraining the gasp that threatens to leave him.

The man looks as if he’s been dragged across broken glass.  _ Or gravel road _ , Laurent thinks irrationally, and the smell of burnt tires fills his senses. Frantically, he stumbles away until his back hits the wall, and he slides down until he’s sitting on the floor. He curls into himself and hugs his knees, mind racing.

The car’s front is completely totaled, this Laurent knows because he’s seen the aftermath for himself. Obviously, the vehicle must have hit something at a high speed, for it to be unsalvageable in such a way.

He digs through his memory, trying to remember if the paint scraped off on the ruined guardrail matches the colour of Damen’s car. 

It’s impossible, though, Laurent reasons, because if Damen had been in a crash Laurent would be the first to know about it. He would have insisted on going to a hospital, and in making sure Damen was perfectly safe before resuming their vacation. He would have noticed these injuries before, he thinks.

Unless, of course… Quickly he dismisses the unfinished thought. He picks himself up off the floor and slides back under the covers, resting a hand on Damen’s shoulder to calm himself, and nods. Outside, a strong wind causes the sea to crash on the beach like a roar, and he hopes the noise won’t wake Damen up. 

Laurent, a reasonable adult, does not believe in ghosts. 

\-----

… or does he?

He looks at Damen, who sits beside him on a beach chair and stares unseeingly into the surf. Laurent closes his book with a frown and sets it on his knees, reaching over to shake Damen out of his stupor.

He jerks his hand back in shock when, for just a moment, he’s certain he felt it pass straight through the material of Damen’s shirt.

Laurent clutches his hand to himself and gapes at his boyfriend, trying to reason with himself in his mind, but what other conclusion can he come to? The man refuses to eat, grows increasingly gaunt with each passing day, and more recently he sometimes acts as if he can’t even see Laurent. 

Is there a more logical conclusion to come to? He thinks back on the few words they’ve exchanged over the weeks, recalling only apologies and regretful tones. Laurent wonders what’s worse, if his boyfriend’s soul haunts him out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or if his boyfriend is dead at all to begin with.

\-----

“You have to leave,” Damen says, cradling his unwrapped, still very injured arm with his other hand. “Laurent, you have to leave, okay?”

“I won’t leave you,” Laurent shakes his head, waving a roll of gauze at Damen in annoyance. “Where would I go, without you? We both want to go home, and I’m not going to leave you here just because you’re hurt.”

“It’s not because I’m  _ hurt _ , Laurent,” the man takes a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m saying, you need to go on without me. This is ridiculous, you’ve already been here a lot longer than you should have.”

“I could say the same about you,” Laurent bites, forcefully moving Damen’s hand away and wrapping the gash. It bleeds sluggishly into the bandage as he covers it. “This place is bad for you, Damen, I don’t know what’s- I don’t think I  _ want _ to know what’s going on with you. I just know this isn’t healthy, for either of us.”

Damen wipes at his eyes with his free hand, smearing clear tears and dark blood over the bridge of his nose with the action. “You have to go, please, Laurent.”

“Damen, I told you,” Laurent repeats, tying off the end of the gauze. “I won’t leave you.”

“Then let  _ me  _ go.”

Laurent looks up from where he’s checking the tightness of the wrapping, and the thought of losing Damen, alive or… Or, he concedes, as a ghost, would devastate him. “I can’t do that either.”

\-----

The first time Laurent is truly afraid, a deep, soul-gripping terror, is when Damen tries to make a run for the door.

He’s been outside before, Laurent knows, but that was  _ before _ he knew Damen might be a ghost. What happens if ghosts move too far from the place of their haunting? Will they disappear? He doesn’t want to find out.

As quick as he can manage, Laurent puts himself between Damen and the door, arms braced on either side of the wall behind him to block the exit.

“I can’t let you leave, Damen,” he warns, frowning. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Laurent, please,” Damen begs, eyes darting to the doorknob behind Laurent’s smaller frame, and the blond shakes his head. 

“I’m not taking any risks, okay? You’re safer inside! Just trust me on this.”

For a moment he’s almost certain Damen is going to hit him, the man’s raised hand wavers between Laurent and reaching for the door. Eventually, he backs down and takes a step away, hunched and trembling. He moves into the bedroom while Laurent, letting out a shaky exhale, lets the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

If this is the only way he can have Damen, he will have it.

\-----

The foundation-shaking knocks come only days after that incident. Laurent wakes up in the early morning to pounding on every door, one after the other. 

First is the front door, the  _ BANGBANGBANG _ sounds echoing throughout the frame of the cabin; after a few minutes of respite the laundry room door is second, hammered hard enough to cause the wood of it to splinter, but not break; the back door is last, loud thumps jarring the frame as though something large and heavy is ramming into it.

Laurent clings to Damen, huddled together against the wall of the living room, away from the doors and windows. His hands are claws in his boyfriend’s shirt. He doesn’t know who’s shaking harder: himself, or Damen?

“Don’t go out there,” he whispers, pulling Damen back when the man tries to get up to investigate. “Damen, don’t!”

“Please, Laurent.” Damen near begs, frowning and clearly torn between getting up and staying with him. The banging comes again from the front door, before stopping entirely. 

Laurent watches in horror from where he’s crouched as the front door knob slowly turns left…. and then right….. before releasing and the sounds stop altogether. He and Damen share a glance before they both slowly get to their feet.

Damen heads for the front door first, uncaring of the previous danger, and Laurent follows behind him anxiously watching the other points of entrance. His eyes fall on the window, and he stares out into the growing darkness of the evening, following the shadows with his gaze.

Something looks back. Laurent falters in his steps, stiff hands letting Damen’s shirt escape from his grasp. The thing on the other side of the glass is far away, but he can tell its eyes are on him. Two reflective spots of white flicker back and forth over the window, settling on Laurent’s frozen form.

Suddenly the eyes are rapidly approaching, and in the glow of the living room light Laurent can begin to make out the shape of a face.

He stumbles with a cut-off scream, reaching blindly out until his fingers brush Damen’s skin and he grabs at his boyfriend, sending them both sprawling backward until Laurent’s back hits the wall again. Dame lets out a curse as Laurent’s elbow jabs him in the side, and Laurent finds himself with a mouthful of his boyfriend’s shirt for his troubles.

“Something is out there!” He pulls at Damen frantically, trying to both hide himself and protect Damen in some way. “I- there was a- I saw something in the window!”

Damen pulls himself away roughly, rendering Laurent speechless, and he scrambles to his feet before sprinting toward the entrance.

“No!” Laurent shouts, moving as quickly as he can to stop Damen from opening that door. He just barely catches him within arms’ reach of the door, pulling Damen away from going outside.

The two of them stop their struggle at the deafening sound of a car engine. It fills the cabin, growling like a famished beast, then slowly fades away.

Laurent manages to coax a near insensate Damen back to the bedroom, desperately trying to ignore the catatonic expression on the man’s face as he tucks him in under the covers. He climbs into bed beside him, laying on his side facing Damen to he doesn’t have to see the window on his side of the room.

He puts his arm over Damen’s chest, grounding himself in the man’s controlled breathing and racing heartbeat.

\-----

Laurent dreams of cars that night. The roaring of the engine resonates in his skull until it’s all he can think about, and the smell of burnt tires and oil fogs his senses until all he can see is flashing headlights in his mind.

Damen is stock still beside him on the bed, unconscious only by product of his own stubborn refusal to eat. The starvation grips him even in sleep, his limbs shaking ever so slightly whenever Laurent looks at him in the dark.

He thinks about the face in the window, the way it rushed at him when he locked eyes with it, and shudders. There are no locks on the windows, not like the doors, and who knows what kind of creature might try to slip in through an easily opened pane?

With that in mind Laurent slips from the bed and sneaks into the garage, taking a hammer and a box of nails with him to every window. He nails the wooden frames shut as quietly as possible not to wake up his sleeping boyfriend, one eye on the night outside in case the figure from before decides to return.

There are two spots of light approaching down the road, the headlights of a late night traveller, and Laurent watches as it illuminates the empty yard in front of the cabin.

He returns to bed after nailing all the windows shut, hesitating when Damen stirs. The man’s face is pained and unrested, even sleeping, and Laurent hopes he’ll try to get better soon.

\-----

He did not expect how angry Damen would be when he realizes what Laurent had done in the night. Damen rushes from one window to the next, pulling the frames in an attempt to open them, but the dozens of nails hammered into the wood keep them all tightly shut. 

“How could you do this?” Damen demands, shooting furious glares at Laurent every so often. Laurent hovers nearby, watching his boyfriend try to rip the windows open with his bare hands. “This is so fucked up, Laurent. I  _ told _ you I was sorry!”

“I-,” Laurent says, keeping his voice calm despite the anxiety gnawing at his insides. “I don’t know what you’re sorry for.”

“Goddamn it,” Damen hits the window he’s trying to open with a closed fist, making Laurent flinch at the harsh sound. He’s just glad the window didn’t break. He stays frozen on the spot while Damen storms to the garage, making a ruckus as he looks for- for  _ something _ .

He comes back with an old iron crowbar, knuckles white where he grips it tightly. Laurent moves to intercept him before he can start prying the windows open.

“Wait, don’t! It’s dangerous outside-” He’s forced to sidestep quickly as the crowbar is brought down not on the window, but on  _ him _ . “Shit! Damen, what the fuck?”

Laurent dodges another swing by ducking behind the couch, and the curved end of the crowbar embeds itself in the soft cushion. 

The wound on Damen’s bicep tears open with the rough motion, leaking dark blood into the thin bandage wrapping. Laurent only watches it bleed for a few moments before he’s running, feeling the  _ swish _ of air just before the crowbar hits something behind him as Damen chases him with it. 

Would Damen hurt him? Laurent would normally say ‘no’, but starvation-addled and insomniac does not make for a ‘normal’ situation. Ghost or not, the toll that would take on a person’s mind is unpredictable at best, and now Laurent is suffering the consequences.

He’s backed into a corner in the laundry room, where Damen manages to put the crowbar straight through the washing machine before ripping it out of the ruined metal and advancing on Laurent.

With nowhere else to run, and nothing else to do, Laurent screams. His eyes screw shut and he covers his head with his hands, as if that might protect him in some way, and screams like he’s being murdered. Maybe he  _ is _ . 

But nothing happens.

Slowly, hesitantly, Laurent opens his eyes one at a time. The crowbar is on the ground, abandoned, and Damen is nowhere in sight.

\-----

Laurent waits until nightfall to emerge from the laundry room, checking both ways as he tiptoes into the hallway. Damen is still out of sight, and Laurent wonders if maybe the man disappeared, as most ghosts do. 

The banging on the doors has returned, centered only on the front door tonight. Laurent heads into the living room to investigate the sounds, avoiding looking at the windows in case the eyes from the previous evening have returned as well.

He finds Damen there, prying nails out of the front door with the back end of the hammer. When did those get there? Laurent moves toward him, careful not to alert the man of his presence in case another fit of rage overcomes him.

The final nail is pried out of the door and it swings open with a  _ crash _ , Damen jumping out of it’s way just in time to avoid getting the wood of it pushed into his face. 

The darkness beyond the door is a veil, and all Laurent can see are two glowing, white eyes that slowly approach. He opens his mouth to shout a warning, but finds himself without a voice. Damen waits for the eyes with open arms and tension bleeding out of his body.

Nikandros steps in through the door, the reflection of his sclerae in the light of the cabin’s lamps dulling until he looks like a normal man. Behind him is a stranger, clad in a black robe with a white bit at the front of his collar.

The stranger holds a book out in Laurent’s direction, muttering words he doesn’t understand, while Nikandros drapes his arms around Damen’s shoulders with clear relief. The two of them walk out of the cabin, Damen leaning heavily on Nikandros as they leave.

Laurent strains toward them, uncomprehending. He reaches out to his boyfriend’s weakened form, almost recoiling at the sight of his own arm: the white of his bones pokes through his skin, and deep burns run up his biceps. He follows the injuries with confusion, until he sees the piece of guardrail sticking out of his own chest.

Something leaks down his face and he reaches up to wipe it away. He looks at the ugly, black substance in his palm, the same liquid that leaks from every other wound on his body. it smells like motor oil.

Outside the door, Damen is being seated in the passenger’s side of Nikandros’ car. He looks up at the cabin and his eyes lock with Laurent’s.

It’s the last thing Laurent sees before blinding headlights fill his vision with white, and he hears the sickening crunch of a car crashing into a ditch.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading guys!! happy halloween!!!
> 
> IK the title probably doesn’t make sense bc it involves some searching on my end:  
> [ Down by the Bay has some ties to this greek song](http://www.allthelyrics.com/forum/showthread.php?t=72431)  
> give it a quick listen if you want but the lyrics are what’s important!


End file.
